Be there “no Karma about it” but THE RECENTLY DECEASED will hit that old after-life office with the thud of paperwork.

(Reminds me of the ole’ Social Security office)

Franz Kafka couldn’t have said it better, whether just the victim is mad or “THE SYSTEM”, itself is even crazier. . . . . and remember, that guy in the “Metamorphosis” story did turn into an insect. OR EVEN A BEETLE.

A lot of people “kill time” in the waiting room, bearing the incarnation they took when “struck-down, mortally”. The visual cue—its own kind of karma whether you’re a shrunken-head on the leash of a witch-doctor as it didn’t end well for the big game hunter.

Don’t go smoking in bed, either—or take poison which will turn you into an icky, translucent green like the secretary behind the sliding window.

Perky, pert, and sarcastic—if not despondent in this perfect illustrated example of the mind/body and material/spiritual splits that cleaves the world into an alienated hell.

Ole’ Beetlejuice pops his head in and takes a seat. I’d imagine him probably sticking his hand down the front of his pants like Al Bundy in “Married with Children”. Half-resourceful or maybe just fool-hardy “no one will notice” as he lopes across the parking lot to grab a cooler of beer.

You’d imagine he’d only lose his place in line.

Solely the balance between evidence and lyricism can allow us to achieve simultaneous emotion and lucidity. . . . . but there he hollers at his loss.

In this last week, we’ve lost Chris Cornell—the singer from Soundgarden—and Roger Ailles—the chairman of Fox News. Only out of an episode of “Adult Swim” could these figures every encounter each other.

The moody rock singer leans up on the chair, hang-dog with his hands stretched over his knee while the right-wing chieftain tries to bluster and glad-hand his way out of federal commitment for dinner reservations “elsewhere”.

There’s only a few things certain in this life. . . . . death, taxes, and irate constituents.

End up here and you have to meet your quota of lingering, ghostly “overtime” back on earth. Spook the hell out of the living for a spike of adrenaline and ecto-residue that kicks into your early retirement, building enough parasitically-fueled power to ascend up the spiritual pyramid to eternal bliss.

Sounds like Medicare and Social Security.

You’ll pay though. . . . . they’ll take everything “but the squeal”.

Death. Taxes. Hollywood sequels. . . . .

Welcome to America. You could die laughing. . . . .

“No dream”, kid. This was your life! Remember to Linger in the graveyard and pick the daisies before summoning for pizza on the Ouija board.

Nothing quite gives you “a kick-in-the-pants” like an actual deadline. So it is– asides from endlessly jotting down script-notes AND ACTUALLY WORKING ON THE SCRIPT. It had to happen sooner or later. Without further delay, handed the opportunity of the season.

The contest was perfect– bootleg “your take” on an actual franchise or character universe, coming up with a cogent story that might get turned into an actual short film if you didn’t swamp the budget with too many special effects.

I had about a week to halfway overall all my notes and come up with a serviceable number of pages. Like, the sheer logistics of it. I geared-up preparation about a week before the October 1st deadline and ended up dumping all writing duties on the very last possible day.

But hark!!– I was prepared and uploaded before midnight, Pacific time with about half an hour to spare. Beyond “just conceptualizing” but actually getting it down.

Personally, I use the “Final Draft” program– and recently upgraded to the newest version– and the interesting thing about that is that it helps you keep up the strict formatting standards that Hollywood must see “if you play in the game”. It takes a little learning, a bit of getting used to– but you’re glad that you followed-through.

This project is finally looking a bit more confident beyond blustering slices of blog-post previews and I can actually see light at the end of the tunnel, on this one. I understand why a script can take a passionate, neurotic, procrastinating “creative-type”, like maybe seven part-time years to get something nailed down, from start to finish.

If you actually complete your screenplay consider yourself a hero in the pantheon of greatness– all most people have is “20 pages”, or so with no idea how to carry the story forward after the first act. They say if you can lay down 2 pages of script a day, “you’re good”. I must have laid-out 12 solid pages for what we will call “The Beetlejuice 2 Teaser” or first part of the movie that can stand alone.

There’s still a lot of surprises up my sleeve. . . . . and I must thank you, the readers for encouraging my thematic boldness. A crowd is wonderful– and you’ve been here the whole time. So it’s “back to the front” and stay tuned for more speculative fiction on all things “Beetlejuice”.